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This is a world like many others. There is water, and land, and air and weather above them both. There are beasts on its land and fish in its seas, and people have long since come onto the scene. There are births, deaths, and all of the joys and sorrows in-between. There are nations, religions, gods, and those touched by the gods.
For good or ill, a few people in every year are born with unusual markings and even more unusual abilities. Scholars know well of these godtouched, from ruins and ancient stories of men who harnessed lightning and women whom the earth itself obeyed. Individuals with unique gifts and talents who lifted the world into a new age of glory, and then brought it crashing down around them. Again the world rose, only to collapse once more. Four times did the world ebb and flow on the currents of life.
Litanaea was rediscovered some eight centuries past by those fleeing the anarchy that grew from the heart of fallen civilization. Its humans were thankful for the respite from their worries, living out the dark early years of their colonization amongst the native kith. Society grew once more, isolated from the world at large by the very waters themselves. Within their collection of islands, new lives were brought into the world, old ones were ushered out, and life went on, ever watchful for the godtouched whose actions had sent them here.
Those touched by the divine are truly touched and no longer the same as mortal man or kith. Not fit to live freely on the same world, or so the clerics say. They are watched, they are persecuted, they are worshipped, they hide in dark holes and in plain sight, they scream their names from the mountaintop and the market square, they run in terror, armies flee before them, and if they are very, very lucky, they can change the course of nations.
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